


Idol Bones

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Multi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let me take care of you, they seem to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idol Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ July 30. 2009.

  
Himawari breathes softly against his neck, drawing him back to his senses. His eyes are clenched shut. He feels the snap of his pants come undone just as Himawari presses against his back, holding him around the middle shyly and uncertainly. One of his hands finds hers, curling around white knuckles as she presses her face against his neck, breathing. His other hand hovers in air for a moment before it moves, settling on top of Doumeki’s head.   
  
The other boy pauses, looking up at him as he yanks the seated boy’s pants down. Watanuki flushes, sputtering.   
  
“Don’t look at me so directly, cretin!” he shouts, though his voice lacks venom. His face turns red as he blushes, having to shift his eyes away and grumbling words he doesn’t really mean.  
  
Doumeki says nothing, as is his usual nature, and merely looks up at Watanuki, hands resting on his hips and thumbs sweeping across exposed, taut skin almost absently. His chin rests on the bed, between Watanuki’s legs, and he kneels on the floor for better leverage. Such a blatant position sends Watanuki into another small fit but it instantly calms down when soft lips press against his temple.   
  
Watanuki keeps one hand in Doumeki’s hair, not quite stroking it as he often did with Himawari’s (when he was feeling bold, which was usually when Himawari was sleeping peacefully beside them). The presence of his hand seems to reassure Doumeki, goad him forward, as he then leans forward and places an open-mouthed kiss against Watanuki’s navel just as Himawari is lifting his shirt upwards.  
  
Her hands push up his shirt, insecure and passing over his chest and making his heart leap. He bites his lip, bites back the small moan that leaves his mouth hungry for her lips and his body hungry for his touch. She pulls away, pulls his shirt over his head while Doumeki rids him of his pants and underwear, leaving him bare and exposed on the bed.   
  
Doumeki pauses, lays simple, sporadic kisses along his feverish skin before his hands migrate to the apex of his thighs. Watanuki sucks in a quick gasp of air, face flushed and mouth falling open. His fingers curl around Doumeki’s hair. Himawari presses kisses over his jaw, neck, and shoulders. He turns his head, tries to capture her mouth but she dances away with a tiny smile— _let me take care of you._   
  
_Let me take care of you,_ they both seem to say. They’re both using their hands and their lips and their tongues—and Watanuki can’t breathe, hear, or see. His breath is jagged, shallow, and he keeps biting back embarrassing sounds. Doumeki’s hands work him, though surprisingly gentle, tongue running along the underside and swirling at the tip—swallowing and tasting him. Watanuki’s hands are both in his hair now, twisting and tugging and molding.  
  
Himawari kisses and sucks along the tender spot on his neck, just beneath his chin. And he breathes in the scent of her hair, nose bumping against her forehead. Her eyes are closed and she’s pressed against him, and her hair blocks his view of Doumeki but he can _feel_ him. It’s strange the way the two contrast one another—Doumeki moves with confidence in his touches, firm and present, anchoring him, knowing exactly what will make Watanuki tense and relax. Himawari moves with hesitancy, her light caresses silently mapping across his skin, skating there haphazardly as if afraid that she will break him, and her touch sends him floating away all over again.   
  
Doumeki is working him, sliding his mouth up and down and swirling his tongue in a way that makes Watanuki see stars. His hands move with him, a tandem of pleasure that sends Watanuki spiraling further and further into incoherency, and if he’s speaking now, he hasn’t the faintest clue as to what words—or sounds—he’s spouting. Doumeki moves with assurance, swallowing more and more of him and never using his teeth, just gliding and pressing.   
  
Himawari’s hands follow the lines of his body, slipping over his chest, down his stomach, over his thighs, fingers pressing enough to leave white imprints that quickly fade away as Watanuki’s blood roars through his veins. But she never lingers for long, and her hands are skittish, ready to pull away and run away at the faintest sigh of pain or displeasure. Her lips, full and soft and lovely, press along his shoulders, at the base of his neck, down his spine and over his shoulder blades. They’re tender but they leave him burning, his head tipped back from the combination of both their efforts, and it takes all his strength not to reach out and touch her, so he keeps his hands in Doumeki’s hair, urging him on. Doumeki obeys.   
  
He cries out, eyes clenching shut as he reaches his limit. He feels Doumeki’s hands pin him down and watches as one of Himawari’s soft hands touches his face and turns it so that they’re kissing. Her lips are soft and tender, moving against his as if she were forcing to suppress the urge to both recoil and curl deeper. He cries out and she swallows the sound, stroking his face as Doumeki slowly withdraws with one final, long lick.   
  
Doumeki sits up, wiping his thumb over his lips and regarding Watanuki passively. He licks his thumb without breaking eye contact and Watanuki feels as if he is about to pass out.   
  
“That’s…” he begins, panting.   
  
“I can’t taste you in this,” Doumeki announces, casual, his face frightfully serious. “It’s weird.”   
  
Watanuki’s reaction is to lift his head in alarmed embarrassment and attempt to kick Doumeki in the face. “Then why do you do it, damn it—!”   
  
Doumeki’s too quick for him, and merely seizes his ankle with one hand and leans forward, laying a kiss on his knee. Watanuki sputters and can’t think of what to say, so he contents himself with gaping at Doumeki, like a fish.   
  
When Doumeki smirks, Watanuki grasps his chin and forces him upward, kissing him soundly on the mouth in order to get him to simply shut up. Himawari laughs quietly, expression fond and gentle, as she leans over Watanuki’s shoulder in order to lay a kiss at the base of Doumeki’s throat. Doumeki deepens the kiss and his hand finds Himawari’s hair, stroking it softly and curling at the base of her neck. Watanuki and Doumeki kiss as Himawari’s hands run down Doumeki’s side, pushing down his own pants in order to run her hands up and down his thighs and over his hipbones and settling in the small of his back, pulling him close so that Watanuki is effectively sandwiched between the two of them. She mouths kisses against their skin, leaving trails of unspoken messages on their flushed skin. They hear it loud and clear.   
  
_Take care. I’ll take care of you. You take care of me. We’ll take care of each other._


End file.
